"Kisho! Get to bed." His mother's voice called from the doorway. He sat up, brushing grass and dirt from his clothing, and, taking one last look at the stars, headed toward the house. It was a beige house, small but tidy, with a small garden out front, surrounding a tiny porch with a hanging light. The year was 1941. Tomorrow morning, the circus was leaving, and wouldn't be back for another 5 years. An out of the way place like Lonlitown was the sort of place where the most interesting thing that happened day to day was the milkman, knocking on the door every saturday morning. Which meant the circus was a big deal for the people there. Kisho figured this would probably be his last circus in Lonlitown, since he really didn't plan to live here forever. He wanted to be something different, something special. He knew all boys his age dreamed about the same thing, day in and day out, but he also knew he already was special. He walked through the door, his mother closing it behind him, and shooing him up the cramped staircase to his room. The walls in the room were beige, like the rest of the house, inside and out. There wasn't much, besides a baseball and bat, a dresser, and a bed. Just a lamp, a dartboard, and a few books. He turned the lamp on, and started to concentrate very hard on one of the darts. It started floating unsteadily around the room, making little loops like an airplane. He caught it in midair, letting it go with his mind, and set it back on the dart tray. As he curled up in his bed, turning the light off, the stars outside winked out as well. Not noticing, he dropped off to sleep...

A sea, blue as crystal, sparkling in the sunshine, birds diving into the water. He reached out to touch the cool water, but, the more he reached out, the farther away it got. Suddenly, the sea, and the world around him turned to pitch black, and a face, made of red mist, screaming in silence, appeared before him. In the back of his mind, a word was whispered. He did not understand it, as it was too low for his conscious mind to comprehend. Then, the whispering grew louder, Back...Giygas...Back.......Giygas...Giygas is back... As the voice rose in intensity, he saw the face swirl, expand, and dissipate, leaving pure darkness in its wake. Then he saw himself, standing next to a hazy figure, on the top of a great mountain. There again was the face. It seemed the embodiment of all evil. Peak...Verital...The peak...of Verital....1922...Back...Giygas...Re....revenge....The voice suddenly became silent. All thought ceased, the world no longer existed, dead silence. And then, breaking the chilling silence, was a single whisper. He is back. The face flashed again, massive, distorted, red, and still screaming silently, whether in agony or rage, one could not tell.

Kisho snapped awake, not realizing what it all meant, but knowing he had just seen something like a premonition. The face, still burned into his retina's, horrified him, and yet, he knew what he had to do. Verital. Mount Verital was where this...this Giygas was. He had once been there on a field trip for Lonlitown Elementary. He set about packing a few sets of clothes into a backpack, and, when finished, grabbed his baseball bat. He crept downstairs, outside, and, without a plan, headed out into the world. About ten minutes later, he decided on joining the circus for a while. He knew they would stop somewhere near Verital some time. He still didn't know what this all had to do with 1922...20 years ago, but, for the moment, decided to try to find out information about this Giygas. If he was back, he had to have come before. And so, with a great unfettered fear in his heart, he trudged off toward the circus.